


Better than Ever

by Twyd



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Acceptance, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Eating Disorders, Feelings, Kissing, Living Together, Loneliness, Love, M/M, Recovery, Slash, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 16:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6964597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/pseuds/Twyd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Izaya gradually plucks up the courage to return to Ikebukuro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better than Ever

Izaya isn’t bored, not yet. And even if he were, he couldn’t even contemplate going back to Ikebukuro. The only worth he’d possibly had to Shizuo was that Shizuo couldn’t hurt him, and now he’d destroyed that.

He wonders if Shizuo ever misses him. The monster would sometimes pounce even when Izaya didn’t provoke him. Surely the obsession could be just little bit mutual?

He takes his phone out. He hasn’t contacted anyone since he left Ikuburo, and it had taken a long time for his arms and legs to heal. Shizuo could have changed his number, or finally blocked him. There was only one way to find out.

_-Miss me yet?_

He puts his phone down, prepared to get on with his work, but the phone buzzes with a reply almost instantly.

_-Leave me alone._

Izaya smiles to himself. Some things never change.

_-How’s Ikebukuro? I miss it._

_-Don’t you dare come back._

_-Not even for my birthday?_

_-I mean it, Izaya._

Izaya is still smiling. It’s like he hasn’t even been gone.

_-Aren’t you glad I’m not dead?_

Izaya likes to think his reply took a little longer, like Shizuo had to think about it.

_-I’m blocking your number._

He doesn’t, though.

* * *

 

_-I miss you._

Izaya has left it about a week before texting Shizuo again. Not strategically, but because he has been busy with his new work, happy to reflect on Shizuo without actually contacting him, but one night when no work is coming to him and he finds himself at a loose end, he thinks to hell with it. He reads the message over again.

_-I miss you._

He sees the monster reading it, rolling his eyes in exasperation, lips curled with contempt. Bloody Izaya. Manipulative, infuriating Izaya, up to his old tricks. So he is not surprised at the reply that comes.

_-Are you high off the morphine or something?_

Not quite the reply he expected. He didn’t expect Shizuo to directly refer to his injuries.

_-Actually there’s no morphine in me, I healed far faster than anyone expected. Thanks for asking._

_-Leave me alone._

_-You’ve already said that._

No answer.

He sighs and pushes himself.

_-I’m bored. I’m lonely._

_-Make friends._

The reply comes quickly, like Shizuo is in a bar or something and saying the first thing that comes to his head to shut Izaya up, to shut his phone up so he can get on with whatever he’s doing. Izaya doesn’t care.

_-Trying._

_-Not with me!_

That brings Izaya’s smile back.

_-I’m sorry._

Shizuo is taking his time replying. Either he is staring at his screen, or has finally had enough and switched it off. Izaya jumps when his phone finally flashes.

_-Like hell you are._

_-No, I mean it._

He keeps typing without waiting for reply.

_-Would you think more of me if I hadn’t come off so badly in that fight?_

The response brings swift relief.

  _–No._

Another message comes when Izaya is still composing his reply.

_-I’m going to bed. Stay away from Ikebukuro._

_-Sweet dreams._

* * *

 

Shizuo is snarling mad when he sees him again, when Izaya finally has the courage to reenter his beloved city.

Izaya is strangely thrilled by his anger, despite what happened the last time. He was afraid Shizuo might have become indifferent to him over time.

“What the hell are you doing here? I thought the last time would have been enough for you.”

“Me too,” Izaya laughs. Ah, he has missed this. He hopes Shizuo will still chase him even though he is no longer an informant or criminal. “To be honest, I wasn’t planning on coming back at all, for a long time. But I did a lot of thinking when I was injured, and what can I say? I just couldn’t stand to stay away.”

Shizuo picks up the nearest thing, a telephone box, and hurls it at him, which Izaya easily dodges before it’s hardly left his hands.

He doesn’t attack again, and Izaya doesn’t run. He’ll only runs if Shizuo goes for him. But Shizuo doesn’t move. He is staring at Izaya.

“You look terrible.”

He does. He’s always been slight, but now he knows he's pretty bad. looks like he’s dying. Shizuo could snap his wrists, or his back, without breaking a sweat. 

Izaya just rolls his eyes. “Always the charmer, Shizu-chan. I haven’t been very well, if you must know.”

This much is obvious. “I heard you were partly traumatised from the fight.”

Izaya smiles with too many teeth. “Awww, Shizu-chan, are we feeling guilty?”

“Why do you want me dead so badly?”

Izaya experiences a little chill at the change in tone, remembering their fight. 

“I had a very stupid reason,” Izaya tells him honestly. “But like I said, I’ve done a lot of thinking, and I’ve decided I don’t want you dead anymore.”

“You want me to kill you, then, to prove I’m a monster.”

“Actually, I’d rather not die myself, either.”

“Well, what then?” He is practically stamping his feet. It’s rather cute

“There’s more to life than killing, you know, Shizu-chan.”

“I know that,” he lets the nickname slide to defend himself. “I’ve never killed anyone.”

Izaya demurs, and a little silence settles. Izaya can tell the other man is confused.

“If you don’t want anything, I’m going home.”

“All right.” Izaya doesn’t bother masking his disappointment. “I kind of wanted to talk, but it can wait til another time.”

Shizuo pauses in his steps away from Izaya, turns back to face him.

“Tell me now,” he growls. “I don’t want you stalking me, showing up places suddenly to _talk_.”

Izaya laughs, to buy time. He tries to compose his thoughts, but Shizuo loses interest and turns away before he can manage it.

“I’m not an informant anymore,” he calls after him, almost desperately.

“You already said that,” he says without looking back. But he pauses, perhaps sensing something in his tone that isn’t looking for a fight. He turns back, and Izaya starts talking to keep him there.

“I tried something else, and I turned out to be better at it than I thought. I live off that now. It’s made me a lot of money, and it makes me happy. It’s not like I could have been an informant forever.”

Shizuo is unimpressed. “Drugs? Human trafficking?”

“ _No_ ,” Izaya rolls his eyes. “Nothing illegal, nothing even shady.”

“Then why can’t you tell me what it is?”

“Because,” he says. “It’s personal.”

Shizuo’s eyebrows raise. Izaya’s almost sure he gets it, when he asks, “Rent boy?”

Izaya laughs like he hasn’t in a long time. “God, Shizuo, it’s like you don’t know me at all. I said it was nothing shady.”

“I know what you’re trying to do.”

His tone cuts Izaya’s laughter short as if he’d struck him.

“You can’t beat me in a fair fight, so you’re playing dirty. You want to gain my trust, act like you’re holding out an olive branch and really destroying me some other way. This is a new low, even for you.”

“Wow,” Izaya deadpans, when he recovers from the surprise. “You are paranoid. You should maybe see someone about that. It probably doesn’t help with the rages…”

He keeps talking until Shizuo gets too far away to hear him.

* * *

 

In his apartment, Shizuo finds a bunch of flowers, complete with vase, waiting for him on his coffee table. He has no doubt whatsoever what has happened, though how the flea managed it is a mystery. He opens his window and hurls them out in the night, vase and all.

Izaya sighs as, somewhere behind him, glass smashes as it hits the ground.

* * *

 

“Flowers,” Shizuo tells them in disgust. “I had to change my locks, and I’m changing my cell number. It’s a nightmare.”

 _-What flowers were they?_ Celty waves her phone in his face.

“I don’t know, purple ones. What does that matter?”

Shinra laughs from behind his laptop. “She was thinking roses.”

_-Actually, if there were purple they could have been Hyacinths. I think they mean ‘sorry.’ It’s the sort of detail Izaya would think about._

“Whatever,” Shizuo fumes. “It’s an insult, giving me _flowers_. And he didn’t have to break into my apartment to give me them.”

“I’ve found out what he does,” Shinra calls. “He’s a poet. A pretty good one too, according to critics. He uses the pseudonym Ayazi, but it’s a pretty lazy pseudonym. It’s just his name backwards. I wonder why he uses a pseudonym when he’s so good? Perhaps he’s embarrassed.”

_-You’re sure it’s him?_

“Oh, yeah. I read his work in school. I’d know that voice anywhere. He was good then, but he’s gold now.”

Despite his mood, Shizuo has to laugh. The flea a poet. He’s heard everything now.

* * *

 

When literally nothing will come out of his head and on the paper, Izaya walks the city, usually ending up under the cherry blossoms in the park, reading or people-watching. He half hopes he runs into Shizuo, half dreads it. He tenses every time he sees a blonde man in sunglasses.

He’s admitted it to himself; he's in in love, or at least deeper in his obsession. And the worst part is that it’s completely one-sided. He’s as pathetic as the teenagers he jeered into suicide.

He tries to focus his work on humans generally, to loss and hope and fear, but really, everything he writes is all Shizuo in disguise.

* * *

 

He confronts Shizuo when he next runs into him, before a fight can develop.

“Let me be frank, Shizu-chan. Are you straight? You’re never seeing anyone, so I have no way of knowing.”

Shizuo stares at him. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Just answer the question, Shizu-chan.”

His lip curls. “You sound like you’re asking me out.”

“Maybe I am.”

Shizuo stares at him.

Izaya stares back, eyes calm and open, looking into his.

Shizuo can’t even bring himself to sneer. Izaya has hit him where it hurt.

Izaya appears to read his mind and rolls his eyes. “I’m not tricking you,” he insists. “I just- “

“Izaya.” Shizuo holds up a hand to stop him talking. “You want to make a fresh start, great. Get a boyfriend and keep writing poetry.”

His eyes narrow just slightly.

“But stay the hell out of Ikebukuro, and stay away from me.”

He has a dizzy spell when Shizuo turns to go. He’d been fighting one for a few minutes but fought it, mortified at the thought of passing out in front of his enemy. He puts a hand against the wall, but his knees still buckle, and his head strikes the bricks on the way down.

* * *

 

He wakes up in a strange bed. Shinra and Celty are bent over him. The monster is leaning on the door, eating a bag of nuts. Izaya can smell them from his bed. The smell and crunch of food makes him groan.

“You appear to have collapsed, Izaya,” Shinra tells him, almost cheerfully. “You’ve lost a lot of weight. Are you eating? You never struck me as the starving artist type. Your work is flying off the shelves.”

“I’m fine,” Izaya mumbles.

“Actually, your BMI is 16.2. Which is very bad, by the way, although you were always borderline underweight. If you keep this up, it’ll be harder on your wrists. I could lecture you on all the damage it’ll do, but I’m sure you- “

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Izaya interrupts. “I’ve had a virus, I haven’t eaten much. It’s not the end of the world. I’m getting better now, so I’ll put some weight on.”

“Good. I think you should you stay here until you do.”

Both he and Shizuo jump.

“You’re not _serious,”_ Shizuo says.

“You can see how bad he is, Shizuo.”

Izaya winces inside. He knows he’s been losing weight, not only from how loose his clothes feel but from the ache in his bones, particularly his former-broken arms, the dizzy spells, the insomnia. He's just loathed himself too much to do anything about it.

“I don’t care how bad he is, I can’t have him here! Take him back to your place.”

“Celty and I are going away for the week, remember?”

“Then - find somewhere else. Some clinic. I’ll take him to one myself.“

“No,” Izaya hisses, with more energy he’s had in days. “I don’t need a clinic. _There’s nothing wrong with me.”_

The stare at him. Perhaps he over-reacted a touch.

“Um,” Shinra says. “Maybe we can discuss this outside, Shizuo?”

“Don’t I get any say in this?” Izaya snaps.

Shinra gives him a considering look. “Do you have anyone to stay with for a little while? Your sisters, maybe?”

“I don’t need anyone to stay with,” he seethes. “I just went dizzy and hit my head on the way down, that’s all. I was probably dehydrated. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Hmm.” Shinra doesn’t appear to be listening. “At least keep him here until you find someone else,” Shinra tells Shizuo. He turns back to Izaya. “Sorry I’m going away. I’ll be on my cell if you need me. Eat regular meals, every day. Let me know if you struggle to put on weight.”

 _Fuck you_ , Izaya thinks in his head, furious. _Fuck you fuck you fuck you._ Perhaps this is how it feels to be Shizuo. He is seething.

“I’m giving you a prescription for calcium, too,” Shinra goes on, oblivious. “That seems to be the main problem. Your bones and joints will start giving you some discomfort soon, if they haven’t already. An iron supplement, too. I’m prescribing you a multivitamin too, just in case.”

* * *

“Tell me this is a joke,” Shizuo says at the front door.

Shinra pauses in the hall. “Don’t be overdramatic. He’s showing no signs of having had a virus. I think there’s a chance that he may have literally just been starving himself. I did hear he’d been having mental health issues, and he’s never exactly been stable.”

“What an idiot.” Shizuo is fuming. Getting stuck with the flea would be bad enough if it was out of a genuine injury, but if it was out of something as stupid as the idiot not feeding himself…

“I could be wrong,” Shinra muses. “There isn’t so much evidence to suggest it…it’s just a hunch.” Shinra’s hunches weren’t hunches; they were omniscient. “No-one’s forcing you but, whatever’s wrong with him, you can see he’s in no state to be on his own. Just keep an eye on him. He seemed shocked when I told him his BMI. I think he’ll start eating again, but if he doesn’t and he loses more weight, take him to the hospital right away. He could go into cardiac arrest if he gets any worse.”

Shizuo is silent for a moment. “Why do I care?” he mutters.

Shinra smiles wanly. “Well, you’ll have some time to figure it out, won’t you?”

Izaya starts talking as soon as Shizuo re-enters the room.

“Look, don’t listen to him, Shizuo. Just drop me off at my apartment and I’ll be out of your hair. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

It’s the third time he’s said it. Shizuo knows he means it from the way he uses his real name.

“No,” Shizuo says, to piss him off, more than anything else. It's been a while since he's had the chance. “You’re staying here, or I’m taking you to some mental health ward to see what they think. Or your family.” He folds over the bag of nuts he’d left on the unit and throws it at him. “Eat.”

He doesn’t stay to see if he does.

Izaya does eat. He eats each nut one by one, biting them in half if he can, and chews slowly. His stomach is grateful, and lets him sleep more easily than it has in weeks.

* * *

 

Izaya is out of bed the next day. He makes the bed and opens the windows, cheerfully asks Shizuo how he likes his coffee. It would be rather convincing if he didn’t look like he had a terminal illness.

“You threw my flowers out,” he pouts, like he didn’t already know. Shizuo ignores him.

Izaya helps himself to an apple from the bowl and holds it in Shizuo’s face.

“Can I eat this?”

“Yes.” Shizuo pushes his arm away in annoyance. “You’ve already touched it.”

“Are you implying I’m dirty?”

“Eat the god damn apple and leave me alone.”

Surprisingly, Izaya does. He eats almost in slow motion, in small bites, and leaves just a little more than the core, but he does eat it. He doesn’t eat anything else.

He writes at Shizuo’s table all day, while Shizuo tries to pretend he isn’t watching him. He wants to go out, but he doesn’t dare leave Izaya on his own, not when he’s mobile and coherent.

After a few hours, Shizuo finds him digging through his cupboard. He turns and holds out a jar of olives he’d forgotten he had.

“Can I eat these?”

“Yes,” Shizuo growls impatiently. “You don’t have to keep asking me. Eat whatever you want. Have more than fruit, or you’ll still be hungry.”

“Those nuts gave me cramps. Shinra says I should probably stick to fruit until my digestive system picks up.”

He rinses the oil off when Shizuo wasn’t looking. For no particular reason. He does want to gain weight – he didn’t mean to go this far – but eating is the last thing he feels like doing.

He falls asleep in front of the TV not long after he’d eaten.

Shizuo moves Izaya’s feet up the couch so he can sit down, and changes the channel.

Izaya sleeps for about three hours, not stirring even when the TV blasts guns, and grins at Shizuo lazily when he wakes up.

“Evening.” He puts his feet in Shizuo’s lap, who shoves them off unceremoniously. He’s not in the mood.

“I’m hungry, can I – oh right, you don’t like me asking.”

He gets up and swans to the kitchen, like he owns the place. Shizuo hears the fridge open and close, and Izaya comes back grinning, plastic container in hand.

“Figs!” he proclaims, like they’re candy. “They’re a natural aphrodisiac, you know. Want one?”

* * *

 

Tom returns from his vacation, and Shizuo goes to work and leaves the flea alone. He can’t bear being around the infuriating man any longer, who would mostly lie in bed writing or on his phone, sing thumping rock songs whenever he felt like it, and chatter to Shizuo like they were best friends. He moved on to foods more substantial than fruit, but he still looks terrible. 

Shinra calls, and Shizuo updates him on this.

"At least he's clean," Shinra offers. "He's not the worst house guest."

Shizuo grunts. He opts to not tell Shinra that Izaya makes him coffee every morning, wanting the doctor to feel as bad for him as possible.

He had taken his laptop, passport, and other valuables with him to work to work, just in case, but the apartment looks untouched. As do the fridge, freezer and cupboards.

“Have you eaten?” Shizuo asks Izaya, who is bent over the table writing like his life depended on it. He has finished all of Shizuo’s lined paper, and has now moved on to plain printing paper.

“I didn’t like to,” he says, without looking up.

Shizuo huffs in annoyance. “I told you, you can have whatever you want. What’s wrong with you? Do you want to stay here?”

“Hmm. Of course not.” He isn’t really listening. He just hasn’t felt like eating much today. “I don’t know what to have.”

“Have anything,” Shizuo snaps. “You said you weren’t fussy.”

“I’m not.” He sighs and caps his pen, puts the paper in his pocket – he never leaves his work lying around, he even takes it into the bathroom with him – and dutifully goes into the kitchen. He opens the cupboard, fridge and freezer, at intervals, fingers everything, weighs the options in his head, and wishes he simply didn’t have to make the effort.

“Flea,” Shizuo calls from the front room, after an unhealthy amount of time of him staring at the food has passed. “I'm ordering pizza. You want some?”

Pizza is the last thing he wants, but it means eating with Shizuo, it means less decisions. He agrees.

* * *

 

Izaya is on the couch in his nest of blankets –he has them a lot, the state of his body probably leaves him cold, though he never complains when Shizuo opens a window, never touches the thermostat -  and eating peanut butter straight from the jar.

“What is wrong with you?” Shizuo hisses, although he sometimes does it himself. He's had a bad day. “Just make a god damn sandwich. And turn the thermostat up if you’re cold.”

Izaya has paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth.

“A peanut butter sandwich doesn’t sit as well,” he explains. “Carbs and fat. That’s bread and peanut butter.”

“Thank you for the nutrition lesson,” he growls. “If you know so much, how did you get this way in the first place? And why can’t you hurry up and recover faster?”

Izaya doesn’t reply, but he stops eating and screws the lid back on the jar, and Shizuo feels a little twinge of guilt.

Izaya washes the spoon and returns the jar to the cupboard. “I’ll buy you more peanut butter,” he says, with only the slightest edge to his voice.

* * *

 

When Shizuo returns from work the next day, all his groceries have been done for him. Everything has been topped up or replaced, even the coffee jar.

“I had it delivered,” Izaya says. “I’ve been eating everything.”

“You haven’t had that much.”

He is staring at the plate on the table, realising where the smell is coming from.

“And you baked cookies,” he says slowly, as if he is losing his mind.

“Yes,” Izaya says placidly. “I’m a good baker, ironically. I didn’t know what to make, but chocolate chip cookies seemed like a safe choice. You have a sweet tooth, right? I’ll have some too, so you know they’re not poisoned. There’s plenty of flour and stuff left in the cupboard, if you ever want to give it a go yourself. It’s surprisingly easy, once you get the hang of it.”

Shizuo is staring at Izaya like _he’_ s lost his mind. Perhaps he has. Perhaps the lack of nutrition has permanently damaged his grey matter.

“What?” Izaya is looking impatient. “Do you think I’m completely uncivilised? You took me into your home, fed me and put up with my shit, which is a big ask for anyone, let alone your worst enemy. I had to do something.”

Shizuo doesn't like to admit it, but the cookies are divine. Perhaps the flea isn't the _worst_ house guest in the world.

* * *

 

“I think we should talk about the elephant in the room,” Izaya announces, when they have eaten their fill of cookies. 

Shizuo stiffens now. He knows nothing about eating disorders, has no idea how to discuss this. He suddenly becomes very interested in carpet.

“You didn’t answer me. When I asked if you were straight.”

Shizuo stares at him. This he did not expect, and it is much worse.

Izaya laughs at him. “I know, I’m a walking stereotype – poetry, baking, eating disorder. But. Think about it. You don’t like me only because you don’t like yourself. I can take you at your worst, Shizuo. You don’t have to be afraid of hurting me. How did it feel, when that was gone? Did you feel alone? That’s why you’ve let me stay in Ikuburo. You’re no exception to all the other humans – you need someone, too. And my theory is that you won’t have someone in case you hurt them.”

Shizuo’s fists are clenched, furious at Izaya’s reading him so easily, taunting him so openly. Perhaps this has been his plan all along, playing dirty, like Shizuo initially thought. If he had the god damn cookie plate in front of him, he’d break it and shove the remaining cookies down the bastard’s throat.

“You can’t take it,” Shizuo hears himself saying. His voice is dangerously low. “I almost killed you last time.”

“Almost,” he harps. “But now I’m back, and I’m better than ever.” He seems to momentarily forget that he is here because he’s let himself become a walking skeleton. “You’d never kill me. I wouldn’t let you come close. I turned on you last time, and that was my mistake. But I can take everything else.”

Shizuo is hardly following him. “Your personality probably changed when you were injured. Head trauma.”

“You’ve been watching too much trash TV, Shizu-chan. I know what I’m saying.”

“You don’t have enough nutrients in you to be thinking straight.”

“Are you just going to come up with excuses all night?”

 Shizuo's fists curl. “Do you think I won’t smash your face in just because you bought groceries and made some cookies?”

“No,” Izaya says.

“I let you stay in Ikebukuro because I felt _sorry_ for you. You looked like you had some terminal illness.” 

Izaya flinches slightly at the words. He doesn't defend himself. 

“What do you want?” Shizuo asks eventually, anger giving just a little. 

“Did you not listen to a word I said?” A hint of impatience creeps into Izaya’s tone, and it’s contagious, gets Shizuo’s temper back up in an instant.

“I listened,” he snaps. “What’s your point?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Izaya snaps back.

“I thought this was over,” he rages. “I thought you weren’t coming back. Why have you come back?”

"You're not listening to me." Izaya rolls his eyes. “It’s OK, Shizuo. It’s OK to lose your temper. It’s OK to hate me.”

He takes a step forward, and Shizuo backs up, sensing what’s coming. “No mind games, flea.”

“No mind games,” he agrees. He keeps coming closer until he is right in front of Shizuo, and drops to his knees.

“Don’t you dare, flea.” His voice is shaking. He is inches from putting Izaya through the wall, consequences be damned.

“It’s OK.” Izaya’s voice is still low, soothing. “Just let me. It’ll make you feel good.” He is undoing Shizuo’s jeans, and Shizuo for some reason is letting him. “It’s just adrenalin,” he murmurs, taking Shizuo’s half hard cock out. “Don’t worry about it.”

Shizuo closes his eyes, lets it happen. It _is_ good. He can’t help himself. His fists go into Izaya’s hair, gripping with a force that would make anyone else cry out, but Izaya merely adjusts his rhythm and obediently speeds up.

He sees white as he comes, and Izaya swallows it all, works him through it, hugging his thighs, and Shizuo has to hang on to his hair to support himself.

Izaya stays on his knees and just looks at him.

“Sleep with me."

Shizuo sucks in. “I’m not falling for- “

“God damn it, Shizuo,” Izaya snaps, and the other man is shocked into silence. It is always unnerving to hear Izaya raise his voice. Izaya gets to his feet. “I told you I don’t want you dead any more, I’m not into anything shady any more. I’ve been sleeping under the same roof as you for weeks and I haven’t done a thing. What do you want from me? I ate a god damn pizza with you. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I ate pizza? I didn’t even rinse the grease off it. It’s not my fault I’m still obsessed with you. It’s not like I’m asking you to fucking elope, all I want is- “

Shizuo kisses him, to stop him. It is a tongueless, unmoving kiss, but Izaya is completely softened by the end of it.

“Yes,” Izaya swallows, without opening his eyes. “That. Exactly.”

* * *

 

Shizuo half expects the flea to be gone in the morning, but he is there lying on his back with his hands behind his head, as if Shizuo had been the one who had been fucked into the headboard. He doesn’t knowwhy he tries to predict anything Izaya does any more.

Shizuo had held back slightly because of Izaya’s weight, but he had still been more violent than he’d ever been with anyone. It had been glorious.

“Is that what you wanted?”

Izaya cocks his head, considering the question. “It’s a start,” he allows.

Shizuo gets out of bed, carefully, as if to avoid initiating anything else. 

“Not a cuddler?” Izaya calls, as Shizuo steps into his boxers. “It’s still early.”

“Why are you still here?”

“ _Wow_ ,” Izaya deadpans, after a pause. “I’ve had some nasty bed partners, but that was rude.”

He keeps his back turned to Izaya, focussing on gathering clothes from the floor.

“You liked it,” Izaya tells him. Like he needs reminding.

“I can’t do this again.”

“Because I look so awful?”

Shizuo turns to him then. Izaya is sitting up against the pillows, eyes lidded, drawling.

“I didn’t mean to get underweight. I was writing, I was spending a lot of time on my own. I was thinking about you a lot too, and it freaked me out. I felt worthless. I hated being away from Ikebukuro. I didn’t eat, but it wasn’t like a cry for help, or anything. I just didn’t want to. And anyway, I’m getting better, you know I am. Shinra will tell you, when he sees me.”

Shizuo avoids his eyes. That is far more information than he is comfortable with. “It’s nothing to do with the way you are,” he says. “It’s – everything else.”

Izaya looks down, and Shizuo has no idea if this has made him feel better or worse. 

Shizuo holds his clothes and izaya’s clothes in each hand. “I don’t know what I want.”

“That’s OK," he says. "Just...come back to bed."

Shizuo swallows. He's afraid to. He doesn't know what compels him do it, but he gets back in bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this is not too OOC. Thank you for reading! Please comment <3


End file.
